How it Fits

The New Digs

2007-01-24T11:11:00.000-08:00

I think it's official, although it still makes me nervous.
How it Fits has moved here.

Cheating

2007-01-24T00:51:00.000-08:00

So there's this other blog I'm playing with.

Shhhhh. . . Don't tell Blogger.

Happy 300th!

2007-01-22T00:09:00.000-08:00

Apparently, you're supposed to do something exciting when you post your 100th post. Being the clueless young blogger that I am, I missed that milestone. So in honor of the 300th How it Fits post, Naiah Cadence shall make her fabulous debut as a comic strip character.

Happy 300th!

Comic design: Jason and the iMac
Fallish photography: Rebecca
Glamor in pink boots: Naiah

The Adventures of Naiah Cady

2007-01-22T00:06:00.000-08:00

The Adventures of Naiah Cady

2007-01-22T00:02:00.000-08:00

The Adventures of Naiah Cady

2007-01-22T00:00:00.000-08:00

The Adventures of Naiah Cady

2007-01-21T23:58:00.000-08:00

The Adventures of Naiah Cady

2007-01-21T23:54:00.000-08:00

The End

Pray for Malachi

2007-01-21T16:27:00.000-08:00

Roxanne has a tiny friend named Malachi, who is 14 months old. Malachi was just diagnosed with AML, the same disease God 'smote' for Aaron Boydston and his family, despite the gruesome odds. Please pray that God would deliver Malachi, just as he delivered Aaron.

Ummm. . .

2007-01-21T16:22:00.000-08:00

"This booger is broken. I'm going to throw it in the trash."

-- Jonah, age 3

I Have Crossed Over

2007-01-18T21:52:00.000-08:00

You know you're podunk when you see quail running around the parking lot and think, "Oooh, free meat!"

The Handyman

2007-01-18T08:54:00.000-08:00

Naiah (18 months) brought me a Stanley screwdriver she had found.

She said, "Papa." (Papa is the kids' name for my dad.)

I said, "This is a tool, a screwdriver. It's Daddy's."

Naiah: Daddy's?

Me: Yes. This is Daddy's tool.

Naiah: Papa.

Me: No, it's Daddy's.

Naiah: Daddy's?

Me: Yes.

Naiah: No. Papa.

Me: Daddy's.

Naiah: Papa.

Adventure Time

2007-01-16T12:56:00.000-08:00

Nathan Stryker linked to this on his blog. So random. So fun.

Identical?

2007-01-15T22:18:00.000-08:00

At the dinner table, as Sarah picks at her pizza. . .

Jason: Uh-oh, Sarah. I think Sissy is getting bigger than you.

Sarah: What?

Anna: But we're both twins!

Me: Yeah, but if you eat lots of food, and Sissy only eats a little food, you'll grow bigger than Sissy.

Anna: I will?

Sarah: Really?

Jason: Really.

Anna: Sissy, you can have my pepperoni. And my sausage. You can eat all of my meat.

MUD!

2007-01-13T12:35:00.000-08:00

Just another girly day at the mud hole.

No clothes were stained in the making of this post. (Yes, it is a miracle.)

ABC

2007-01-13T09:42:00.000-08:00

I thought about doing this one. Then I was tagged by Lisa S. (Hi, Lisa!) So I did.

A- Available or married? Married, but I've never really been available.

B- Best Friend? Jason Kerr (Well, Hestermom, if husbands don't count.)

C- Cake or Pie? French apple pie, a la mode

D- Drink of Choice? Thai iced tea

E- Essential Item? Sewing machine, or mixer. It's a tie.

F- Favorite Color? Red

G- Gummi Bears or Worms? Worms

H- Hometown? Ojai, CA/DeKalb, MS

I- Indulgence? Currently, Aunt Susan's oatmeal cookie recipe, rolled in powdered sugar, and baked gooey-crisp

J- January or February? February

K- Kids & names? Anna, Sarah, Jonah, Naiah Cady

L- Life is incomplete without? Death

M- Marriage Date? June, 2000

N- Number of Siblings? My very talented little brother, John

O- Oranges or apples? Eh. Not a fan.

P- Phobias/Fears? House fires, while the kids are asleep upstairs

Q- Favorite Quote?
Time in the hand is not control of time,
Nor shattered fragments of an instrument
A proof against the wind; the wind will rise,
We can only close the shutters.
-- Adrienne Rich, "Storm Warnings"
R- Reason to Smile? Fabric-- lately fleece, but always batiks

S- Season? Autumn

T- Tag three people! Jenn, Lisa H., and Sarah Grace

U- Unknown fact about me: I had braces my last year of high school and first year of college. It really sucked.

V- Vegetable you hate? Canned anything.

W- Worst habit? Losing track of time, for entire days

Y- Your favorite food? Cha siu fan (roast pork rice), at the cafeteria at HKBU

Z- Zodiac? Libra. Not into it.

Short Narrative, by Jonah

2007-01-13T09:12:00.000-08:00

One day, I was broken. My nose fell off. But Daddy fixed me.

-- Jonah, age 3

More Catching Up

2007-01-10T10:28:00.000-08:00

Pepparkakor, inspired by Stephanie.

A Christmas card, from Anna to Sarah.

Christmas Morning (finally)

2007-01-10T10:18:00.000-08:00

We have photos! And a card reader to upload them! If only I understood photography!

Naiah the nonchalant.

Princess Anna and Princess Belle.

Super Jonah versus Buzz Lightyear.

T-rex meets his lunch.

Shell Shock

2007-01-07T19:50:00.000-08:00

I haven't been blogging lately, because I'm so overwhelmed and angry and disillusioned about the past few weeks with the teenagers we work with, that I'm scared of what depressing or fatalistic things I might write. I'll try to be factual without getting crazy.

One girl's father told her he doesn't want her anymore, and signed custody over to her abusive mother and her mother's abusive boyfriend, who she escaped from last summer, when she came to live with her dad. Her mother told her she doesn't want her either (she gets more money and party time with her friends this way), and sent her back to her father, who again told her he doesn't want her, but had no choice but to take her. She's twelve, addicted to hard-core porn, and sexually assaults boys her age. She obviously didn't get that way all by herself. No one seems to be trying to get counselling for her. I'm not even sure if it's available here.

Another twelve-year-old girl was looking forward to a Christmas visit from her mother. She has only seen her mother a handful of times since infancy, and couldn't stop telling us about the upcoming visit. Instead of a visit, she got a phone call from her mom. I learned about this over a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough. She didn't cry about it, or even dwell on it much. She just said it, like it was the most mundane thing in the world. "My mom called and said she's not coming. She never wants to see me again. She doesn't even want me to call her." Then she went back to pining over her boy-interest.

A third twelve-year-old has been bounced through five or six homes in the last year-- all extended family-- and is now living with her dad's new wife, who is living in a half-finished house around the corner, while they wait for her dad to complete his prison term. They rarely have food in the house, and have to cross the street to use the shower.

And that's just a few of the girls. The boys are a whole other story, and just as deeply in need. But they all walk around like everything's fine.

What the heck are we supposed to be doing here?

Potty Language

2007-01-07T19:44:00.000-08:00

Naiah (18 months): Poo poo!

No response.

Naiah: Poo poo!

No response.

Naiah: Diaper with feces!

The Negotiator

2007-01-02T20:03:00.000-08:00

Naiah is 18 months old. Just before bedtime, she tapped me on the arm.

Naiah: Cookie, please.

Me: No, baby. No cookies right now.

Naiah: Cracker, please.

Me: No, Naiah. You're going to bed in a minute.

Naiah: Milk, please?

Me: Oh, okay.

Dora vs. Science

2007-01-02T16:25:00.000-08:00

Sarah: . . . And then the mean witch put a spell on the castle, and put it up on a cloud, and it stayed there! . . . Wait. . . How could a castle sit on a cloud? It's WET AIR!

Narrate, Punctuate

2007-01-02T16:20:00.000-08:00

One day there was a princess named Dora. She needed to go to a party at the castle. She said, "How will we find the castle?" And what do we use when we don't know which way to go? The map! That has an exclamation point. Now say, "MAP!" with an exclamation point! MAP!

--Sarah, age 5, telling Naiah tall tales

Anna + ________

2006-12-30T00:26:00.000-08:00

Anna: Sissy already knows she wants to marry Alex, but I still don't know who I'm going to marry. (sigh)

Jason: Yeah! Isn't that cool? I didn't know who I wanted to marry till I was like twenty!

Anna: Really?

Jason: Yeah!

Anna: Who was it?

Jason: (whispers) It was Mommy.

Anna: Really? Cool!

Extortion

2006-12-28T17:31:00.000-08:00

So it turns out that having your car impounded isn't the greatest thing in the world. The towing company who impounded it would like us to pay twice the usual rate for the tow, plus $35 for each day they keep our van locked in their tow yard.

If we had no money to bail it out (which we would not have, were it not for divine providence) the ransom for the van would continue to rise $1,050 each month, until it would soon cost more to rescue it than to buy another van. At that point, they would auction it off, and we would never see it, or its contents (which are many, and varied in importance) again.

So basically, if your car happens to break down on the pass, and you happen to be poor, you lose your car. Forever. If you have money, or the connections to get the money, it's not a big deal. That seems an awful lot like taking advantage of the poor.

Serendipity

2006-12-26T18:25:00.000-08:00

The title of the book that the girls just asked me to read:

How Many Trucks Can a Tow Truck Tow?

Providence, Continued

2006-12-26T17:46:00.000-08:00

The lead pastor and staff sergeant took the truck up the pass, to tow our van back down the hill. They couldn't find it.

It had already been towed and impounded.

Meanwhile, Naiah, Jonah, and I braved the elements for a two-block trip to the pharmacy and the post office. In our mailbox we discovered a sizeable check from an old friend of Jason's. The note said to use what we needed and spend the rest on the church.

Alrighty then.

I think I like problems that God solves before we have them. Which, now that I think of it, would really be all of them.

Providence

2006-12-26T10:51:00.000-08:00

Background: Four couples make up the core membership of our church plant. Three of the couples have three or more children, and therefore own two vehicles. Altogether, that's seven vehicles, when you include the fourth couple, who own one vehicle. Got it?

At the beginning of November, one vehicle, belonging to the lead pastor's family-- a truck, necessary for hauling wood and taking trash to the dump-- was out of commission. Bald tires.

So the staff sergeant's family happily shared the use of their truck with all of us.

In the middle of November, the staff sergeant's family lost their van (the same make and model as our van) to a potentially fatal crash. Black ice. Everyone was fine.

Since the truck wouldn't do for long trips to town, or carrying many of their five kids, a pastor in Chester loaned them his sedan, indefinitely.

In early December, when the staff sergeant and my husband drove the truck up into the forest for firewood, the truck hit a stump under the snow, and killed the transmission. No more truck.

A week before Christmas, my husband drove his car to work, and couldn't start it at lunchtime. It froze and threw a rod. Dead.

None of us had a truck to tow it home, so a total stranger from the Chester church drove 45 minutes to pick up a tow dolly at U-Haul, then the car at the courthouse, and pull it 30 minutes back to our house. He also volunteered to return the dolly the next morning. I met him, and his wife, on our front lawn. They smiled and said, "Merry Christmas."

The lead pastor's family was able to put new tires on their truck on Friday. They offered to take everyone's trash to the dump.

My husband decided to start taking the bus to work, rather than drive the van. But the bus wasn't running today (county holiday), so he took the van. It gave out halfway up the pass. The staff sergeant met him there, assessed the damage, and drove him to work in the borrowed sedan.

He has offered us the parts from their van, to repair ours.

Do you think, maybe, God is building some community here?

Good thing we live in a three-block span. That's walkable.

Hospitality

2006-12-23T21:16:00.000-08:00

Last summer, I was blown away with how God could use silk flowers and candles and chocolate and frilly tablecloths to break through, for the first time, to the down-and-out teenage girls who come to the church plant. Those small considerations made people who don't even feel welcome in their own homes feel like they belonged somewhere, like they were wanted and loved. The events of that night moved hospitality from a sideline interest to a central kingdom tool, in my mind. And ever since then, it's a BIG deal to me.

So fast-forward to tonight, when circumstances conspired to derail my best laid plans for the youth Christmas service/party. It was cosmetic, really. The important elements were in place-- the nativity story, Christmas carols, with lyrics on Powerpoint, a horde of expectant teens and kids; it just looked wrong, slapdash. I couldn't set the tables or serve mulled cider or decorate the way I had planned.

So, rather than adjust like a rational person and let the little things go, I panicked. They'll think we don't care about them, I thought. They'll think we don't want them, that they're not as important as the adult guests. They're not welcome.

But once we started singing and marvelling at the story, from creation to ascension, I got over myself. The kids were enthralled. Nobody whispered or passed notes. Nobody seemed to notice the bare tables or lack of refreshments. They were too caught up in the Christ story.

Afterward, we shooed them over to the next room, where we slapped together a buffet of cookies and cupcakes and cider, and passed out the gift bags we had prepared. Our young guests were content. They were warm and welcome. The were loved, without all the stupid trappings I deemed so important. Heart hospitality was ever so much more valuable to them than the outward.

The Sling Is Dead

2006-12-22T09:39:00.000-08:00

From the moment Naiah was born, she was perpetually glued to Mommy. GLUED. Thanks to the wonders of the sling, that was no big deal. I would just strap her on and go about my business. Everybody's happy.

Now that she's 18 months old, and developing other sundry interests (toilet papering the bathroom, bullying her big brother, attacking the DVD player. . . ) her need for constant contact has lessened, overall.

However, these last two days, for some reason (teething? holiday stress?), Naiah has reverted to her clingy ways.

Since I happen to have many items on my to-do list, I thought I'd just grab a few yards of fabric and sling her up and get on with my life. So I did.

Naiah: Mommy! I STUCK!

It's not quite the same, now that she can talk.

Like Today.

2006-12-21T16:24:00.000-08:00

Some days were meant to be played in a minor key.

Clean Up Time

2006-12-19T00:20:00.000-08:00

Jonah (3 years old) accompanied me to the restroom at WalMart.

He sat on the potty and glanced around at the muddy water and toilet paper and pistachios strewn across the floor.

"Mommy, could you clean up, please?"

Maybe = DEFINITELY!

2006-12-18T21:36:00.000-08:00

At Saturday youth service. . .

Teen 1: Hey, Becky, can we go caroling this week? I want to go caroling! Will you take us?

Teen 2: Yeah! We should go caroling! What day are we going?

Me: Um. . .

Teen 3: Ooh, I want to go! When are we going? Can I bring my sisters?

Teen 4: I can't go on Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday. How about Sunday?

Me: Um, that's tomorrow, and I think--

Teen 2: No, Monday night! After dark! 5:30! Is 5:30 okay?

Me: Well, maybe, but I haven't talked to--

Teen 2: Okay, see you then!

Teen 1: Bye!

Teen 4: I'm so excited!

At 5:30 p.m. tonight, ten kids show up at my door simultaneously. Why does this surprise me?

P.S. My husband was so sweet and understanding about me taking off tonight with a flock of kids in scarves and mittens. He even made Red Hot cider to warm us when we returned. Sigh.

P.P.S. Red Hot Cider

1 package Red Hots
1 gallon apple juice

Dump it in a crock pot and heat, stirring occasionally.

Tis the Season

2006-12-18T21:33:00.000-08:00

Tease the season to be holly! Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!
Tease the season to be jolly! Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!

--Anna and Sarah, at Walmart, for one long hour

Eragon, the Movie?

2006-12-16T00:10:00.000-08:00

Okay, I wasn't a die-hard fan of the book. The first few chapters have been decried by the author himself for being overwrought and immature. But by the time he finishes Eragon, Paolini has grown into a decent author, and when he wraps up Eldest, he's beginning to resemble an epic storyteller.

Then the movie. I have few words to describe the disgust. But I can say this:

DON'T SEE IT. DO NOT SEE IT. DON'T DON'T DON'T SEE IT.

The producers owe that Paolini kid a huge wad of cash for the new readership they have massacred.

Here's where they went wrong-- some dipstick in the production office put the SPECIAL EFFECTS GUY in the director's chair. So, you can probably imagine the maiming that went on in crucial scenes, basic plot elements, central characters, etc. What, oh what, were they thinking?

Beautiful CGI, though. Lovely CGI, with no story whatsoever.

I need to go scrub my brain now.

New Horizons

2006-12-14T23:07:00.000-08:00

I bought my first carton of cigarettes today. They weren't mine. They were for my mother-in-law. Really.

Being the goody-two-shoes that I have perpetually been since toddlerhood, I have never bought or smoked a cigarette, and my entire experience with alchohol consists of one sip of seurat, and one sip of port at a vineyard in central Texas. (Yes, they do have vineyards in Texas, with bed-and-breakfasts run by delightful Afrikaners. And now you know.)

On my way to town, I mulled over how one goes about asking for and purchasing a carton of cigarettes from a locked cabinet behind the last checker at WalMart. I thought I might say, "Could I have a carton of Misty Lights 120's, please?" and smile and say, "They're for my mother-in-law."

But why do I have to tell him they aren't mine? I wondered.

Because I'm a goody-two-shoes, I replied. Buying cigarettes would tarnish my white-bread-Southern-Baptist image. Duh.

So I decided to just buy them, as though I did it all the time.

Attempt #1

I get in line to check out at WalMart. The store is closing, and each register has at least a ten minute wait. I head toward the checker at the cigarette counter. Then I notice the sign over his head. "Ten Items or Less." Nevermind. I choose a line two aisles away from the cigarette counter.

Fifteen minutes later, I check out. As she rings up the last items, I casually say, "Oh, and I need a carton of Misty Lights 120's, please."

She glares at me. Glares. "You can't do that here. You have to be in that line." She indicates the cigarette counter.

"But it says, 'Ten Items or Less' on that line."

"Yeah, but they'll still let you through."

"Okay. . ."

So I flip my cart of freshly checked merchandise around and stand in another line.

Attempt #2

Ten minutes later, I am face-to-face with a pimply high-schooler, perhaps 18 years of age, at MOST. He is nervous, because he has caught me staring in his direction for much of the fifteen minutes during which I stood in the first line.

I have studied. I have practiced. I am prepared.

"I'd like that carton of Misty Lights 120's, please," I say, in my most authoritative, yet courteous voice. He retrieves the carton, and places it on the counter between us. Success!

"May I see your I.D.?" he asks.

"Oh, um. . . It's in the van." (And I'm like 10 years older than you!) "I have my bank card. It has my picture on it." I hold it out. He doesn't look.

"You need I.D.," he says, in a surprisingly authoritative tone.

I feign annoyance. "Well, do any of the gas stations around here sell those by the carton?" Nice recovery.

"Um. . . yeah. Like all of them."

"Okay, then."

"Sorry."

Attempt #3

I pull into the USA gas station on my way home. Two scruffy men mill around the front counter, chatting with the clerk. They stare when I walk in.

I bravely approach.

"I'd like a carton of Misty Lights 120's." I declare.

"Got your I.D.?" he asks, frowning.

"In the van!" I dash out to the parking lot, grab my bag, and fish out the billfold. And I'm back, shoving my driver's license at him.

He holds it up to the light. Reads the date. Humphs. "1979," he reads, amused. He scrutinizes. "Summer Street. Ojai. Nice."

"Well, we're not there anymore." Did he just read my address? Oh yes, he did. The creepy fat guy with belly bulging out of his sweatshirt is reading my address. Thanks to my mad powers of procrastination, my OLD address. I'm so glad I procrastinate.

He gives me my license, and searches the cartons. "Misty Lights 120's?" he asks.

"Yeah." Finally. "Or Eve Lights 120's."

I have impressed him. "I haven't seen Eve Lights around here for years! I wonder what ever happened to them."

His friends wander off without saying good-bye. He hands me the carton. It's smooth and slim and blue.

"Those are my snowboarding partners." He waves toward the scruffy men.

"Oh," I say, trying to picture the fat man on a snowboard. "I've never tried it."

"Really?" he says. "It's so easy! You should try it!"

"Well, I've seen people much more athletic than I am suck at it."

"Aw, you don't have to be athletic. I'm a big, fat guy, and I do it. Thirty-three, forty-nine."

I chuckle. And hand over the cash. He gives me my prize.

"You have fun now," he says. Like I'm going to go party with my Misty Lights 120's. Seriously, they're just cigarettes, not hard liquor, folks.

"I will."

Sick Puppy

2006-12-14T11:02:00.000-08:00

Jason had to leave court today (he clerks there), because he felt disoriented and nearly passed out. He came home with a high fever that hasn't budged after 1000 mg of ibuprofen. After he left work, a woman from H.R. put on a sanitary mask and Lysoled the entire building. I'm taking him to the doctor this afternoon. Bleh. Good thing his mommy is here.

Sugarplums

2006-12-13T14:13:00.000-08:00

The kids have been listening to The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy again, and again, and again, on Starfall.com. They turn it on, and then run to the living room so I can watch them dance. The girls flit about like ballerinas, while the boy stomps and kicks like a Bolshevik, because "that's how boys dance."

Hey, it beats watching them tear around the house shrieking their lungs out. (It's been cold and rainy for a long time, and they're a little insane.) I guess music really does soothe the savage beast.

Talk, Talk, Talk

2006-12-12T20:55:00.000-08:00

Sarah and Anna started an obnoxious round of knock-knock jokes at dinner tonight.

Sarah: Knock, knock!

Anna: Who's there?

Sarah: Juice.

Anna: Juice, who?

Sarah: I'm gonna drink some juice! I'm gonna eat some food! I'm gonna eat some table! I'm gonna eat somebody! I'm gonna eat some nose! I'm gonna eat an eye! I'm gonna--

Jason: You keep saying you're going to eat, but you're not. I think you're all talk.

Sarah: WHAT? Ha! I'm not all talk! That's the funniest joke of all, Daddy! Ha, ha, ha! I'm all talk! That's so funny! Ha, ha, ha! . . .

Aficionado

2006-12-11T16:56:00.000-08:00

Wow.

-- Jonah, 3 years old, upon hearing Mozart today

Christmas Everywhere

2006-12-11T16:53:00.000-08:00

We have plenty of fir trees growing around our neighborhood. Last night, we went for a walk with the kids.

Anna: Look at all the Christmas trees!

Sarah: They're OUTSIDE Christmas trees!

Another Blog Quiz

2006-12-08T21:06:00.000-08:00

You paid attention during 100% of high school!

85-100% You must be an autodidact, because American high schools don't get scores that high! Good show, old chap!

Do you deserve your high school diploma?
Create a Quiz

Not really. But everybody thought I did.

Ambivalence

2006-12-07T17:13:00.000-08:00

"Mommy, when you say 'maybe,' you're always right."

-- Sarah, age 5

Big Helpers

2006-12-06T13:58:00.000-08:00

Anna, Sarah, and Naiah helped me put away all the groceries this afternoon. When we finished, I said, "Wow! When did you girls learn to be such good helpers?"

Anna replied, "When we were little kids, of course."

Pandora

2006-12-04T14:33:00.000-08:00

I just made a radio station that only plays songs in a minor key. You've got to check this out!

You put in the name of a song or artist, and it creates a streaming selection of songs in that style, many of which you've probably never heard. It was started by the Music Genome Project, which researches the common denominators in differing types of music, and seeks to explain why people prefer certain styles over others.

My favorite Christmas stations are the ones I got when I put in "Oh Come, Oh Come, Immanuel" by Third Day, and "Let it Snow" by Bing Crosby.

It asks for feedback about which songs you enjoy or hate, and it adjusts the list accordingly. How cool is that?

Backseat Theology

2006-12-04T14:28:00.000-08:00

Overheard in the van. . .

Anna: Jesus is God's Son.

Sarah: Sissy, Jesus IS God.

Anna: That's because He's God's Son.

Sarah: Yes. And Jesus is God's connector.

Anna: WHAT?

Sarah: I mean. . . Um. . . I think I was making a joke.

Words I Never Thought I'd Hear (This Soon)

2006-12-02T10:54:00.000-08:00

"Jonah! Stop arguing with Naiah! "

Identical Again

2006-12-02T10:31:00.000-08:00

It was so much easier to tell them apart when Sarah was the only one wearing glasses. Now that Anna's are fixed and Sarah's are pink again, I have to look twice.

Tag!

2006-12-01T10:38:00.000-08:00

I've been tagged by SarahGrace to reveal five things I've never shared on this blog. Aye, aye, Cap'n!

I LOVE moving. Not the process itself, but leaving the familiar behind and starting over in a new place with new people.
I will feel like I have failed at life if I don't have at least one novel out by the time I'm 35. I'm working on a very intimidating one at the moment, but I think it has a chance of being completed.
I never use profanity, but I can't seem to keep it out of my fiction, and that bothers me.
I once took a solemn vow never to marry. A month later I was head-over-heels for this misogynist preacher boy from my theology classes, and feeling idiotic for vowing anything. That lasted exactly one month. After that I was off to Hong Kong for a semester, where I lived across the hall from my future husband and never dated him, until we were married. And the moral of the story: Don't make solemn vows in college.
I quit writing poetry because I realized no one reads it, except literary scholars, and because I'm losing faith in art for the sake of art.

I must be in a bad mood, because that's an awfully negative list. But there it is.

I'm Dreaming. . .

2006-12-01T10:22:00.000-08:00

I finally got the tree up!
(And Naiah has already begun demolition.)

Are we excited yet?

The Monster vs. The Beast

2006-11-29T18:33:00.000-08:00

The other night, we were straightening the living room together. Jonah, ever the master decorator, neatly lined up four of his monster trucks on the woodstove. By the time we noticed, it was too late.

May they rest in peace.

Frosty the First

2006-11-29T17:09:00.000-08:00

He had an icicle nose and leafy eyes, but Jonah ate them. Well, just the nose, really. I don't think he ate the leaves. I hope not, anyway.

A Christmas Story

2006-11-29T16:40:00.000-08:00

The kids have been obsessing over the movie A Christmas Story, otherwise known as, "You'll shoot your eye out, kid!"

Bet you can't guess what they want for Christmas now. (Or maybe you can.)

Anna wants a pink one. Sarah wants a rainbow one. Jonah wants a blue one.

What have I done?

Princess Lib

2006-11-28T18:52:00.000-08:00

Anna: We're the princesses, and Jonah's the bad guy! And he's going to take us away! But the prince will save us!

Sarah: What? NO! We can do that ourselves!

Leftovers, Hong Kong Style

2006-11-27T10:45:00.000-08:00

Do you know what my husband did with our turkey last night?

He pulverized it in the food processor with fresh ginger and garlic and scallions.

Then he folded it elegantly into wanton wrappers and made a glorious wanton soup.

Mind you, we never once saw a turkey the entire time we lived in China, or anywhere else in Southeast Asia.

But if there were turkey, this is what they would do with it.

Sometimes that guy actually lives up to his IQ.

And Also a Link

2006-11-24T21:35:00.000-08:00

Same guys as below, minus the singing. (Thank goodness.) There are four of these.

The Title of the Song

2006-11-24T21:27:00.000-08:00

I'm too sick to blog. [hack] [cough] [phlegm] [owie]

So, in honor of Monty Python, now for something completely different.

The essence of the boy-band love song. Enjoy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2006-11-23T14:36:00.000-08:00

Happy Day:

Woke up to a crisp layer of snow and ice, and plenty of sunshine.

Donned my boots and gloves, and pulled the red wagon over to the church to decorate tables for dinner. (Four long tables, at least 21 place settings, lots of fall leaves strewn about.)

Returned home to start the turkey and stuffing.

Made/Making fresh cranberry-orange sauce, sweet potato casserole, yeast rolls, green bean casserole, pan gravy, mashed potatoes, fresh pumpkin pies.

Spending all day in the kitchen, while Jason watches the kids, is like a vacation for me.
I just realized I've been cooking all day long in my snow boots.

Bleh

2006-11-21T11:12:00.000-08:00

I'm sick.

I wish I weren't sick. I wish I were cleaning my upside-down house and pre-cooking for Thanksgiving.

But I'm sick.

In other news, Jason and I have been reading through Christopher Paolini's best-seller, Eragon. I was reluctant to try it, mostly because the title seemed too clever for its own good, also because I'm not a big fan of the fantasy genre.

I changed my mind because. . .

A few friends recommended it.
I need to learn new plotting techniques. (Juvenile Fantasy is very plot-driven.)
I'm impatient for Jo Rowling (the Plot Master--Have you seen her mapping method?) to finish the last Harry Potter book.

The first few Eragon chapters were infested with modifiers and similes. I caught myself cringing and laughing way too often. Then I learned that Paolini wrote it as a teenager, so I quit picking on him and envied him for doing what I only dreamed of doing in high school.

It's a decent story, so far, if you can overlook the (at times) overblown imagery and excessive adjectives. Hopefully, he'll outgrow the dramatics by the next installment.

When Mommy's Away

2006-11-17T17:14:00.000-08:00

Anna, Sarah, and Jonah were playing house today.

Anna: Okay, Baby, I'm going to leave the house. I'm not going to stay home.

Baby Sarah: [whine] [whimper]

Anna: Don't worry, Baby. Your daddy will stay here and take care of you.

Baby Sarah: [whine]

Anna: Jonah, you take care of our baby. I'm leaving.

Jonah: (in his manly voice) Okay. (Jonah tackles the baby.)

Baby Sarah: EEeeeeek!

Jonah: (pinning her) I'm taking care of you.

Baby Sarah: EEEEEEEEeeek!

Jonah: I'm taking care of you!

Anna: Just watch over her!

Jonah: I am.

That's My Brother!

2006-11-17T08:22:00.000-08:00

My brother, John, does amazing things with a guitar. You should hear him rock out, or better yet, lead worship.

He just left an up-and-coming band, called Aventine, because he didn't want to leave his wife and baby for a whole year to go on tour. So now he's back to his acoustic and a few digital toys and writing.

Be sure to listen to "Father Son Time" and "Midnight Drive."

And, by the way, John, I want a cd for Christmas.

Premium Wage

2006-11-16T19:11:00.000-08:00

Jonah (three years old) handed Jason a nickel.

"This is for your work," he said.

Narcissism

2006-11-16T17:26:00.000-08:00

Moppets Teacher: Anna, what are you thankful for?

Anna: Me.

Lament

2006-11-15T09:38:00.000-08:00

I have a lot of sisters.

Jonah, age 3

Surprise!

2006-11-15T09:35:00.000-08:00

Naiah was nursing under my bedcovers this morning. Suddenly she popped up and said, "Ta-prise!"

Snow

2006-11-12T22:24:00.000-08:00

These are from the first snowfall of the season, last Saturday morning. It was Naiah's first frolic in the white stuff. The lighting was terrible, but I did my motherly best.

The shed and the lilac.

First snowy steps.

Taste test.

Charge!
(And in the background, Jonah gets creamed.)

A Long Trip Home

2006-11-12T21:35:00.000-08:00

Why does weather.com say "rain" when it always snows?
Why can't they see that the storm is hitting tonight, not tomorrow?
Why are the highway markings painted white?
Why does snow dump on one side of the hill and dust on the other?
Why are my "all-weather" tires worthless in snow?
Why can't they put up more of those reflector poles along the roadside, especially at crucial intersections?
Why can't my husband be home when I'm calling him from a snowbound parking lot in the middle of nowhere?
WHY?

Edit: I shouldn't leave it that way. God answered my calls tonight. Just when I thought we would have to sit tight and wait for help, the snow let up enough for me to see my way home. Thank you, God.

PETA's Smallest Enemies

2006-11-11T17:29:00.000-08:00

Anna: Where does chicken meat come from?

Me: From chickens.

Anna: The animal chicken or the meat chicken?

Me: It's the same thing. They kill the chicken, and pull off its feathers, and cut off its head and feet, and then we buy it and cook it and eat it.

Jonah: I'm going to eat a cow! I kill the cow! Then I cook the cow! Then I eat the cow, and it YELLS in my mouth!

Me: Is the cow sad because you're eating it?

Jonah: Yes! And it yells in the field, because I shoot it with a gun! Pow! Pow!

Me: Well, I don't think they shoot it with a gun. I think they break its head with a hammer.

Anna: Pow! I shot a chicken.

Me: They don't shoot chickens either, honey.

Anna: Oh. . . Come here, little chicken! Come here! I won't hurt you. I just want to pet you. There you go. . . CUT! CUT! CUT!. . . I cut off his head and his legs and his feathers! Now I'm going to eat him-- Yum, yum, yum, yum. . .

Grow Up Already!

2006-11-09T16:53:00.000-08:00

Jonah: Mommy, I need to grow up.

Me: I know. (sigh)

Jonah: But I don't want to grow up in a trash can.

Me: Okay. . . (The house isn't that bad.)

Jonah: I want to grow up in the potty.

Me: Um. . . Do you mean throw up?

Jonah: Yes! I need to grow up in the potty.

Sex and the Knowledge of God

2006-11-08T22:00:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking/reading a lot about sex lately. This is partly due to the fact that it is a subject which interests me (my mother is blushing right now), but it is also because it is a subject which (to put it mildly) interests the adolescent girls who hang out at my house and our church.

These girls have no clue why they should wait till their thirteenth birthday, let alone marriage, to jump into a sexual relationship with the next guy who happens along. The fact that the Bible warns against it makes no difference to them. They have no cultural memory of morality or Christianity or respect for the Bible. They are, however, attracted to Scripture, because God is drawing them in, and because we love them for no good reason, other than that we believe the Bible and its testimony about Christ.

So when we first introduced them to God's intentions for sex and purity, they balked. A hundred episodes of Friends, Sex and the City, countless movies, and dubious accounts from friends and parents all stood staunchly opposed to what we showed them in Scripture.

They thought God was holding out on them.

So I've been reading. I wanted a quick fix-- some promise, reward, some darn good reason to tide them over until they grew into Christ enough to obey out of love. But more than that, I wanted a solid understanding of God's purpose in making sex the way He made it-- exclusive, emotional, thrilling, spiritual. I wanted to understand why it has power to enslave and destroy; so that when they asked me, I could tell them exactly what was at stake.

I read lots of Scripture and sermons, mostly from Piper, but also from several Desiring God conference speakers. This one put it all together. This was the central understanding I was looking for. From here, the how's and why's fall into place. Thank God.

Ah, Peace and Quiet

2006-11-07T23:12:00.000-08:00

Spotted on a minivan bumper:

Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver.

Eccentricity

2006-11-06T18:13:00.000-08:00

Last night, we were driving the van home from a neighboring town. The girls were strapped into their carseats, Sarah in front of Anna.

Sarah: Hey, Sissy! Let's play hide and seek!

Anna: Okay! You count.

Sarah: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Ready or not, here I come!

Anna: No! I'm not ready yet! Count again.

Sarah: Okay. One, two, three. . . Ready or not, here I come!

Turns in her seat to look.

Sarah: I found you!

Anna: Oh, man! Okay, I'll count. One, two, three. . . Ready or not, here I come!

Leans forward, searching.

Anna: Where are you?

Giggles from Sarah's seat.

Anna: Oh, I see you!

Sarah: Oh, man! You always find me! Okay, I'll count. . .

Church Casual

2006-11-05T13:58:00.000-08:00

The style of dress at our church is a kind of mountain grunge. Pastor Jason looks like a scary biker; Adam (ex-military, drummer) always looks like he's ready for a fight; and my Jason usually dresses like an overgrown college kid. It's not that we weren't raised right; it's just that we've come to appreciate the value of being cultural chameleons when presenting the Gospel in new territory.

So this morning, my husband was rummaging through the dresser and the closet, trying to find an appropriate shirt to wear with his holey jeans and tattered baseball cap. Because I'm so behind on laundry, he couldn't find anything that passed the sniff test. (Oh, yes, it's that bad.)

All he could find was a crisp, white dress shirt, neatly hung in the closet. He put it on.

Jason: Does this look okay?

Me: It's kind of weird.

He rolled up the sleeves, revealing the long-sleeved t-shirt cuffs beneath.

Jason: How about now?

Me: I don't know. I kind of like it.

Jason: Yeah, but Jason and Adam are going to be like, "Dude, you're wearing a button-up shirt!" . . . I guess I'll just tell them it was the only thing that was clean.

He added a stained barn jacket.

Jason: Now it's kind of cowboy.

Me: That works.

Dream On

2006-11-02T19:27:00.000-08:00

Jonah: I have to go potty!

Me: Okay, go potty.

Jonah: No, I have to go potty at Disneyland.

Rivalry?

2006-10-30T21:22:00.000-08:00

Anna: Hey, Sissy!

Sarah: What?

Anna: I wasn't talking to you.

Sarah: But I heard you say, "Hey, Sissy!"

Anna: I know. I was talking to Naiah.

Sarah: Gah!

Overzealous

2006-10-30T21:07:00.000-08:00

I handed Naiah (16 months) a piece of ice.

"Quesadilla!" she said.

Impressive, but no.

The Weekend that Wasn't

2006-10-30T11:33:00.000-08:00

The Plan

At the second Girls Only night, the teenagers were begging me for a sleepover. I agreed to it, with no idea how it would work out. (Our youth group basically consists of bullies and outcasts, and they don't tend to get along very well.) We planned to do it at the end of October, which gave me two months to plan.

An old friend from the Ojai church contacted me. She said two of the Ojai teens wanted to do a missions trip in-state. She asked if there was anything they could do for us. At first, I couldn't think of anything specific. Then God said, "Duh, sleepover!" (I don't think God really says 'duh,' but it felt that way.)

The Ojai girls were stoked. They could be themselves, love on our girls, and show them what a Jesus-following teenager looks and acts like. I gave them a list of the tough questions that the local girls keep asking and implying, plus a list of situations to prepare for (i.e. What will you do if someone insults you? If a fight breaks out? etc.)

They worked with one of the Ojai youth leaders, who was coming with them, preparing and praying and planning and praying some more. Together, they came up with wonderful ideas for how to serve and demonstrate Christ to the girls. Foot washing and pedicures, make-up sessions, hair styling, group games, waiting tables. . .

By the time they got to our house Thursday night (after driving all day), all we had to do was lay out a flexible schedule and pray like heck.

The Sleepover

At 5 p.m., one hour before starting time, girls started showing up. They were SO intrigued with the Ojai teens. They began to argue over which one would sit with them at dinner, or sleep next to them at night.

We seated them at festive tables, set by the Ojai team, and served them dinner and soda. We played games. We sang. We made brownies and painted toenails. The four girls from Ojai didn't waste a second of one-on-one time, were brave and effective in panel time, and answered some very scary questions about sex, rape, and dating. In short, they did what they came to do.

The local girls were so overwhelmed by how loved and special they felt, they didn't know what to do. Consequently, these are the things that, by the grace of God, did NOT happen at the sleepover:

Fist fights
Stealing
Destruction of property
Bullying
Exclusion
Disappearing
Inappropriate touching

Instead, we had a different group entirely. Girls who usually threaten each other and gang up on each other in the alleys were talking and laughing together. They momentarily forgot past grievances and played together. They rallied around the Ojai girls as if they suddenly had everything in common. It was miraculous.

Saturday Night

Hot Topic, the youth service, started four hours after the sleepover dispersed. Rather than preach, Jason continued the thread started by the Ojai team, and told the story of how God transformed his family and himself. I have never seen those kids sit so quietly for so long.

At home, we met with the Ojai team until 3 a.m., discussing what God had made of their visit, praying, and laughing.

Sunday

Around 9 a.m., they left for Ojai. Some of the local teens came to see them off. They cried over being left behind. One of them tried to steal a pair of shoes that had been left, so that the Ojai girls would have to come back to her to get them.

Church that morning was more stressful than usual, for lack of sleep, huge numbers of kids, messes, and missing Jenn (Pastor Jason's wife).

Afterward, we had more than our usual horde of kids over for lunch. While I was making the biscuits and sausage gravy, one of the sleepover girls (12 years old) pinned down a boy her age, with help from another girl, and 'accidentally' groped him. He was not amused. So after lunch, Jason spent the entire afternoon working as a mediator between the kids and the parents, and brokering peace.

It was a rough blow for us, and especially for her, to send her home. She's one of the most broken kids we have.

Later that evening, kids started showing up at our house again, waiting for the Singspiration to start. We were hosting it at our church, for the evangelical congregations in two neighboring towns. We headed over to the church just before six, and every one of the youth and kids turned out. I've never seen kids so excited about a bunch of worship bands and hymns. They had never heard of such a thing. They picked the music for our band to play, and took over the first three rows.

Afterward, I was serving brownies and helping out with refreshments, when one of my neighbors came up to me. She had a few choice words to say about how 'lenient' I am on the youth, and how she plans to start coming to all of our meetings to "whip them into shape." And, just to demonstrate, she openly yelled at one of the teenage girls next to me for interrupting her. Fun stuff.

So I cleaned the church kitchen and went home and called my mommy. And as I reviewed the entire weekend with her, and remembered how much huger all the blessings God poured out on these past few days were than the little bumps in the road from Sunday, I got over myself. We had a miraculous weekend. Exhausting, painful, fun, confusing, scary, encouraging, dangerous, and miraculous. God never makes it boring.

Sabbath

2006-10-30T11:28:00.000-08:00

This is my front door, today.

Get it Right, Mom

2006-10-25T09:32:00.000-07:00

Naiah is 16 months old now.

Me: Hello, little miss.

Naiah: I'm Yaiah.

Dinner Trouble

2006-10-23T21:09:00.000-07:00

Jason: Food, meet Sarah's mouth.

Sarah's Food: Nice to meet you.

Munch!

Anna: Hand, meet Sarah's mouth.

Anna's Hand: Nice to meet you.

Whap!

I Wasn't Going to Blog This. . .

2006-10-23T17:44:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, Jonah was pretending to be my husband in the church nursery. His portrayal of Jason seemed a little misogynous to me, so out of respect for Jason, I didn't post it. It went something like this:

Jonah: I'm going to work, now, Becky. I need food for work. Make me some food!

And later. . .

Jonah: I want cookies. Becky, make me cookies!

I was a little puzzled as to where he got that idea.

Then I got a phone call this afternoon. It was Jason, calling from work.

Jason: When I get home, can you make me some cookies? I really want some cookies.

Me: You called me from work to ask for cookies?

That explains a lot.

Math, Math, Everywhere

2006-10-21T20:51:00.000-07:00

We took a box of doughnuts with us in the van today, on the way to the pumpkin patch.

Sarah: How many doughnuts are left?

Me: Well, we had twelve, and we ate nine. So how many are left?

Sarah: Three.

Anna: Hey, if we break them in half, each of us can have one half.

Jason: You're teaching them fractions?

Me: No.

Walk in the Woods

2006-10-20T22:17:00.000-07:00

Sheesh

2006-10-20T11:44:00.000-07:00

Naiah brought me a picture of a sheep.

Me: That's a sheep. Sheep. Baa.

Naiah: Peesh.

Me: Sheep. Baa.

Naiah: Peesh.

Me: Sheep.

Naiah: Baa.

Manhood

2006-10-19T11:21:00.000-07:00

Jonah: Mommy, you be the queen, and I'll be the king.

Me: Okay. How are you today, my king?

Jonah: I'm a mean pig.

Mighty Mouse

2006-10-19T11:10:00.000-07:00

Girly Math

2006-10-18T15:45:00.000-07:00

Anna: Six plus four is. . . ten. Ooh, I'm going to make a tiny ten.

Sarah: I made a tiny ten. Look!

Anna: Oooh, it's so cute! I want a cute ten! . . . Look! See my cute ten?

Sarah: Oh, it's so little and cute! Is mine smaller, or is yours?

Anna: Um. . . I think mine's smaller. But they're both cute!

Sarah: I'm going to make mine smaller. Oh, it's going to be so cute!

Darn That Commutative Property

2006-10-17T23:41:00.000-07:00

Sarah was working on addition problems in her math book.

"Three plus four," she said out loud, "equals. . . seven." She carefully printed a seven in the blank, and moved on to the next problem. "Four plus three equals-- WHAT?! I just did that!"

A Mystery in Wood

2006-10-16T17:06:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a pile of wood, hauled and split by a city boy with a day job. The pile of wood sat in the open air, happy and dry, until rain came. Then the city boy decided to stack the wood in a shed.

When he went outside, he found that the wood pile had doubled in size. Fresh rounds sat quietly with the split wood. "That's strange," said the city boy. He stacked the split wood and went inside.

The next day, the city boy thought he might split some of the new wood. But when he went outside, he found that the wood pile had doubled in size, again. . .

I suspect the neighbors.

Heading Into Town

2006-10-16T14:23:00.000-07:00

My camera is a better photographer than I am, but it was such a pretty day. I had to try.

Crazy Days

2006-10-16T10:45:00.000-07:00

Well, we're more than two months from Christmas, and already racing. I was beginning to get used to the slow pace up here, and now it's going SoCal on us.

On Saturday, our worship band led the music for a group of pastors and lay leaders from all over our region, at an all-day meeting near the lake. We discovered when we arrived that they weren't exactly expecting a band. The schedule named our pastor and his wife for all the music. I think they were hoping for some mellow duets. Well. . .

We caught a few complaints about hearing aids and the like from some of the old-guard Southern Baptists, but for the most part, they seemed okay with it. I think they tolerated us because we're so young and clueless.

Nobody made a fuss about Pastor Jason's new tattoo either. It helps that he's a church planter. He's allowed to be edgier.

Then we gathered up our kids from an exhausted Jenn (who managed her three and our four in two tiny rooms ALL DAY), and headed home to get ready for the youth service, which was suddenly happening at our house.

The sign on our front door.

Two hours later, thirty kids were packed into our living room. It was SO fun. I kept laughing at how absurd it all was. Adam came over and we led worship on the floor with the two guitars. I've never heard those kids really sing before. Some of them were GOOD. Then they scattered all over the house and the basement and the yard, learning how to spend time alone with God. This was so not what I expected from a life in missions, but I love it.

And yesterday was, of course, the normal Sunday craziness, plus a little extra. (After everyone had left from the youth lunch, one of the teenage girls walked into my house and caught me talking on the phone with my mother-in-law. . . in a towel. A small one. Oh, and how long has it been since I shaved my legs? Not a clue. Why was I not mortified by this? Because I am so ridiculously type B, I have no sense of shame. And now you know.)

Sugar

2006-10-16T10:41:00.000-07:00

Anna: Can I have some more marshmallow cereal, please?

Me: No, but you can have some Kix.

Anna: Why?

Me: Because the marshmallows have too much sugar.

Anna: Oh. I like sugar.

Nice Try

2006-10-11T20:03:00.000-07:00

"Ha! You're funny, Mommy. Ha. Ha. . . "

-- Jonah, age 3, as soon as he suspects he's in trouble

Oh, no, no. . .

2006-10-11T19:52:00.000-07:00

"I gotta go potty!"

-- Naiah, 15 months

A Disney Drama

2006-10-07T17:29:00.000-07:00

A Disney Drama

The Cast:
Jonah, age 3, as Mickey
Anna, age 5, as Minnie
Sarah, age 5, as Dash

Dash: I love you, Minnie.

Dash kisses Minnie on the nose.

Minnie: Ugh!

Dash: I want to marry you!

Minnie: I'm not gonna marry you. I'm gonna marry Mickey!

Dash kisses Minnie. Minnie kisses Mickey. Dash hits Mickey.

Mickey: Hi! I'm Mickey.

Dash: I'm going to marry Minnie.

Mickey: Okay.

Dash kisses Minnie.

Minnie: Eeeek!

Minnie runs away. She falls in Mickey's arms.

Minnie: I don't want to marry Dash! I want to marry you, Mickey!

Mickey: Uh. . . You're a girl. I can marry you.

Dash: Noooooooo!

The End

Bush Dweller

2006-10-07T17:08:00.000-07:00

This is the infamous lilac bush. Along with the infamous squirrel.
Oh, yeah. He's in there.
These were taken today.

Timber

2006-10-07T08:19:00.000-07:00

So the menfolk are out to destroy things today, namely trees. They're taking their trucks and chainsaws and flannelwear out to the woods for a day of manliness.

Oh, how far we have come from the Ojai environmental clubs. ("Keep the Sespe Wild!") The hillbillies are sucking us into their nefarious, tree-felling ways.

As long as I don't have to see another $400 propane bill, kill them. Kill them all. (Except the pretty fir ones. Ooh, and the poplars.)

Hot Lips

2006-10-05T15:53:00.000-07:00

This afternoon, I was stoking the fire in the stove, when Anna came up behind me.

"Whoa," she said. "That's a big one!"

"Yeah," I said. "It's pretty."

"Yeah. But I think it will burn my lips off."

Indignant

2006-10-04T21:53:00.000-07:00

"HEY!"

--Naiah, 15 months
When I left her strapped in her car seat to unload a few grocery bags.